Sexy Bad Daddy (Sexy Bad #2)

by Misti Murphy

  “The right time?” I pick up the utensil and scoop up some of the filling with my finger.

  She’s right about the damn cheesecake. It’s making me want to take things to a whole other level with her. Preferably a horizontal one. Instead I smoosh a little onto the tip of her nose and grin at how sexy she is when she stops stammering and gives me her undivided attention.

  “No, it’s not the right time.”

  “Good.”

  “Good,” she echoes.

  I don’t know why I can’t say anything else. Can’t steer this conversation in a different direction. Can’t stop this train wreck before it happens, even when I know that’s exactly what it is. My hand finds her hair, fingers digging through the fiery tresses to cup her neck as I shift closer.

  God help me, she needs to step back. To shake her head. To tell me to go to hell before I ruin the good thing we have going. She doesn’t. Her gaze never leaves mine as I tug her hard against my chest. She tilts her face to mine a scant moment before I slam my mouth to hers. A slight moan vibrates through her chest as I press my tongue to her lips until she parts them so I can surge in and taste her.

  Sweet like the cheesecake.

  Breaking apart, I fight to catch my breath while I kiss the smear of dessert from her nose. “We shouldn’t have done that.”

  “No. We shouldn’t.” She’s shaking, breathing in sharp bursts, but still she doesn’t pull away.

  “I shouldn’t kiss you again.” But I’m going to. I can’t fight my attraction to her any longer. Not now that I’ve had a taste.

  “No.” Her palms are splayed on my chest, unmoving. As though to break this exact physical contact even a fraction will change our entire trajectory.

  “We can’t do this.” I squeeze the back of her neck gently, meaning to reassure her, or me, that I’m going to let her go, that I’m going to step back, about face, get the hell out of the room.

  Her eyelids flutter heavily as she moans.

  “Fuck.” I wrap an arm around her waist and lift her up as I take her mouth again.

  We slam against the counter, bounce off it, and crash into the island while our tongues war amid a clamour of harsh breaths and seductive whimpers. Her hands push and yank at my shirt, and I set her down on the cool surface. When I pull back to discard the clothing, she chases my kiss. “Hottest thing I’ve ever seen.”

  “What?” Her gaze follows my hands to my belt as I undo it and the zip.

  “You are,” I tell her. She’s so raw and eager, and fuck-me gorgeous. “I want to lay you out on this counter and eat you up with a side of that cheesecake.”

  “Please.” She whines, her thighs clenching around my hips. Then she’s pushing at my pants, dragging them and my boxer briefs down until my cock springs free and she can wrap her palm around it.

  Digging my fingers into her ass cheeks through the cotton dress, I drag her to the edge of the counter. She puts out her hands to brace herself while I hook my fingers into her panties to pull them down.

  “Eek.” She lets out a surprised yelp that’s accompanied by a squelch as one hand lands in the cheesecake. The bowl tilts and dollops of filling end up all over the counter.

  Heedless of the mess, she lifts her ass to help me as I pull her slinky black panties all the way down and drag them over her feet.

  Hitching her dress up past her thighs, I slip my hands up her legs as she widens them for me. My finger glides though her arousal easily, and I circle her swollen clit before pushing into her. I practically crow, “Pity. I guess I’m going to have to eat all this myself.”

  Her tits heave as she squirms on my digit, her breath rushing out of her before she bites her lip and brings her hand to her mouth to lick some of the sweet mess from her fingers.

  It’s fucking hot the way the buttery concoction slides between her lips and down her wrist. I want her tongue on me, want her on me, any which way. Every way. I stop long enough to tear open a condom foil and wrap my wood. Longest minute of my life as she trails sticky fingers down my abs and leans in to follow them with her tongue. Then she shoves her hand in front of my face and I suck her fingers into my mouth. They taste like the cheesecake; I lick the traces of it from her skin and yank her hips to mine, shifting to sink inside her. Grasping her chin, I tip her face so I can kiss her again. Sucking and biting at her lips, I lift her up and push into her.

  So tight, and hot, and wet. She squirms on my cock as she adjusts to me, taking me deep. Her nails bite into my shoulders as I stroke into her. Slow, fast, over and over and over. She climbs me, her arms wrapping around my head, pulling my face between her tits. Damn, I wish I’d stripped her naked. Wish I’d taken longer to enjoy this, as she cries out in my arms and practically cuts off my oxygen. My grip tightens around her hips, slamming into her harder while her orgasm clenches around me again and again until I’m utterly empty.

  Knees weak, our bodies pressed together, I lower her to the floor. She clings to me for a minute, eyes wide and panting. I don’t want to let go of her. I’m pretty sure I could stand here all night if it would prolong the moment.

  Erin is already drawing away though, and I can’t blame her. We were supposed to be friends. Not this. I peel off the condom, toss it in the bin, and tuck myself back into my pants. Doing up my zip, I try not to look her in the eye. I knew this was a train wreck in the making. Didn’t stop me though. I’m not sure it would have any effect if we found ourselves in the same predicament again. All I can do is try to wrap my head around what just happened so it doesn’t occur a second time. Picking up my shirt from the floor, I head out of the room.

  “I’m sorry,” she says behind me.

  Turning around, I watch her push her hair back from her flushed face. Her lower lip trembles despite how hard she’s trying not to let it. Shit, I don’t want to be a jerk. I don’t want her to be sorry for what happened between us. It’s not her fault I couldn’t keep control of my dick. “Should we talk about what just happened?”

  “I should probably pack my things.” She picks up the cheesecake and dumps it in the sink, then turns on the water and grabs a cloth. All while avoiding looking at me. “Or do you want me to stay on for a week or two while you find a replacement?”

  “What?” Fuck, that mess was supposed to be for her boyfriend. Someone who isn’t me. Someone who will never be me. I’ve never called myself a saint, but this is a low I didn’t expect to reach. Forgetting everything because she overtook my senses was irresponsible. Letting my desire get the better of me was a stupid move from the get-go, for so many reasons, but does she really plan on leaving Abby over it?

  “You’re quitting?”

  “It would be best.” Swiping the cloth over the puddle of gelatinous mess, she scoops it up and dumps it in the trash. “Wouldn’t it?”

  Maybe. Probably. I don’t know. Isn’t she absolutely correct, that the minute we chose to have sex she stopped putting my daughter’s interests first? And so did I. That should be enough for me to agree that she should leave. Before Abby gets any more attached. Before I do. I want stability for my little girl, not someone who will eventually walk out on her because I screwed it up. “I’m going to go to bed. You should probably do the same. We’ll talk about it tomorrow.”

  “Okay,” she says. “I’ll finish cleaning up.”

  Why the hell did things have to get complicated?

  “’Night.” With a curt nod, I leave Erin to turn off the lights.

  Outside Abby’s room, I watch her sleep by the glow of the nightlight. She’s going to hate losing another nanny. I’m going to hate replacing Erin.

  Padding across the floor, I stoop over Abby, brush her hair back from her face, and kiss her on the temple. “Goodnight, sweet pea.”

  She mumbles something that sounds suspiciously like it’s about goats then settles into her pillow as I check to see she’s tucked in properly.

  Maybe by morning I can convince myself that I want Erin to leave. And that I don’t want a longer, slower
repeat of tonight with the nanny instead.

  Chapter Nine

  ERIN

  “Stupid cheesecake. Don’t ever ask me to make it for you again.”

  “Hey, it’s not my fault your employer decided to come home two days earlier than he should have,” Danny says from his perch on my bed, where he’s flipping through a golf magazine he snagged from Garrett’s bathroom. Not the main bathroom in the hall, either, but the one in his bedroom. My friend has serious personal space issues. “That was the worst golf game he’s played in years.”

  “I don’t know golf and even I could tell it was bad,” I admit.

  “Yeah, he was pretty damn distracted. But anyway,” he says, switching gears so fast it takes me a few moments to catch on. “I told you I ended up not needing the cheesecake to close the deal with the hot waitress.”

  “Not helping,” I say.

  “Hey, at least my hook-up doesn’t have kids. At least, I don’t think she does.” He rolls his hand under his chin and places his elbow on his knee, like he’s emulating The Thinker. And then he shrugs and returns to devouring the magazine.

  “This was only the second time in eight years. And, by the way, he’s not married.” I fold a red sweater and add it to the pile in my suitcase. “Not even dating anyone. He told me he hasn’t slept with anyone since I started working for him.”

  “Yeah, I noticed there’s a lack of media fanfare about him lately. Well, except that one article, but that was all speculation. At least, it was until two days ago.”

  Two days ago. When Garrett and I lost our minds and screwed our brains out on his kitchen counter. While I’ve regretted the decision a thousand times since, I’ve just as frequently wished for a repeat performance.

  Except we can’t. Because I apparently have a problem sleeping with baby daddies and he doesn’t do relationships. Not exactly a match made in heaven, even if the sex made angels sing.

  I haven’t seen him since that evening. We were supposed to talk the next day, but he was gone before I woke up. He left a note on the counter: “Abby and I are hanging out with my brother and the goat. Enjoy your day off. ~ G”

  I headed to Danny’s house, where I regressed to my college days and proceeded to get wasted and passed out on the couch and didn’t wake up until the next morning. When I texted Garrett and apologized because I should have been home to take care of Abby, he responded that she’d spent the night at Paynter’s house and he was heading to the links, so I should relax and enjoy my day. I came back here to nurse my hangover while Danny took the waitress out for lunch and—despite the lack of boyfriend cheesecake—a little afternoon delight.

  And now I’m packing my bags, getting ready to move in with my best friend. Again. I really need to break this cycle.

  “Wait a minute. Two days ago,” I repeat, pausing mid-fold. “What are you talking about?”

  He glances up from the magazine. “Oh, you didn’t see it? I thought you stalked your employer like I do. Here.” He pulls his phone from his pocket, taps the screen a few times, then flips it around to face me.

  There’s a picture of Garrett, Abby, and me. He’s holding Abby while looking at me, and I’m reaching for his daughter while smiling up at him. I snatch the phone from Danny’s hand. “That was the charity event. Jesus, we look like—like…”

  “A family?”

  “Shut up. But yes. What the hell?” I scroll through the article, an editorial piece that’s all about Garrett’s personal life. All the holes in one he’s scored off the course and speculation about the hot young redhead on his arm, who, by the way, happens to be his daughter’s nanny.

  “Thank God Fiona doesn’t know about my great fuck-up.” I drop the phone onto the bed and then sink down next to it. “Although this still sucks. He’s worked so hard to improve his image. This is going to blow all that effort to hell. Stupid Fiona.” Memories of the way she flirted with him, gave him that foot job, make me leap to my feet again. “He needs to sue her for libel.”

  “Except what she’s written is true.”

  “She doesn’t know that. No one does, except Garrett and I. And you. And considering all your dirty secrets I know, I don’t see you blabbing to anyone.”

  “Well, that sucks, because Us Weekly pays a pretty penny for inside info like this, and I could use the rent money.”

  “Not funny.” There’s a sound, the lock on the front door releasing, and Danny’s head whips up like someone’s just dangled a raw chicken leg in front of an alligator. “Down, boy.” I hurry out into the hall, nervous and excited all at the same time.

  When I round the corner Garrett glances my way, and I come to a stuttering stop. He’s wearing a baseball cap, his dark hair curling out from under it, unruly enough to indicate he’s due for a cut. Glass-blue eyes catch and hold my gaze, but not before I take in the fitted pink golf shirt, lime-green pants, and the bulge below his belt. Only Garrett can rock such gaudy clothing and look damn sexy doing it.

  “Where’s Abby?” I blurt.

  He shoves his thumb over his shoulder and says, “With my parents. I was hoping we could…” His gaze hardens as he focuses on something over my left shoulder.

  “Hey G-Man,” Danny says.

  “Uh, he’s helping me pack,” I say.

  “How about instead of that, you tell her the truth, asshole?” Garrett demands, glaring at Danny, who looks at me, his brows low over his eyes.

  “No clue what you’re talking about,” Danny says.

  “Here’s one: I had lunch at Skores today.”

  Danny brightens. “Oh yeah? Me too.” And then his smile turns upside down. “Oh.” His gaze slides my way. “I think we just got busted.”

  I shake my head. “I didn’t have lunch with you today. I was … Oh.” The waitress. Afternoon delight.

  “I can explain,” I say.

  “You have nothing to explain,” Garrett says, stabbing his finger in my direction and then shoving it into Danny’s shoulder. “He’s the one who needs to start talking.”

  “She’d probably be better at explaining, actually.” Danny shrinks away from Garrett’s angry finger.

  “She’s not the one who was getting a hand job under the table at lunch.”

  I arch my brows at Danny, whose cheeks tinge pink. “I told you I didn’t even need the cheesecake,” he says.

  “Yeah, that’s right,” Garrett says, and he flings his hands into the air. “She made you a fucking cheesecake, and just because it got ruined you go out and hook up with the first available slut?”

  “She’s not a slut,” Danny defends his latest fling. “And by the way, I know how that cheesecake got ruined.”

  I smack my head; Garrett’s eyes widen before his gaze flies to me. “You told him?” He sounds utterly dumbfounded.

  Danny doesn’t give me a chance to respond. “Yeah, she did. And I don’t think you have any right getting all indignant over my perceived cheating, Mr. Nanny Screwer.”

  Garrett and I both stare at him. “Nanny Screwer?” I say. “Did you really just say that?”

  “Yeah, well, it’s true.”

  “I’ve never screwed my nanny before. She’s the only one. And yeah, we fucked up and shouldn’t have done it, but neither have you—”

  “Cool your jets, hotshot,” Danny cuts him off. “You didn’t do anything wrong. And neither did I. Erin and me, we aren’t together.”

  With my hand covering my eyes, I say, “I can’t believe this is happening to me.”

  “I don’t get it,” Garrett says. “Are you telling me you broke up? Like, before we, uh…”

  “Baptized that counter in there?” Danny offers, and Garrett glares at me.

  “You gave him details?”

  “I am her best friend, after all,” Danny supplies. “Girls are like that. They need someone to talk to. Especially when the guy takes off without so much as a courtesy cuddle before passing out afterward.”

  “I would have cuddled,” Garret says, so indignant his voice
cracks. “But I thought … What the fuck is going on here?”

  “She lied to you,” Danny says, because this situation could not possibly get worse. Or maybe it can, with the way Garrett’s glaring at me like he’s considering tossing me bodily from his apartment.

  “I can explain,” I say weakly.

  “That would probably be a good idea.” Garrett’s teeth are clenched so tightly, I’m afraid his jaw might crack.

  “Hey, you aren’t going to hurt her or anything, are you?” my ever-gallant best friend asks. The look Garrett gives him makes him crouch behind my back.

  “I might hurt you, if you don’t get the fuck out of here.”

  “That’s my cue,” Danny announces, and he skirts around the two of us, making a beeline for the door. “Let me know if I have to share my bed tonight.”

  Garrett and I stare at each other until the door slams shut. “What the hell is going on?” he demands.

  Maybe I should have asked Danny to stay.

  “Um, it’s kind of a long story.”

  “I have time.”

  Shit. “I should probably keep packing while I explain.” I break eye contact and head down the hall to my bedroom, Garrett trailing along behind me.

  “Why are you packing?”

  “Seemed the logical next step.” I pull open a drawer and dump the contents into my suitcase. Naturally, it’s my underwear. Because this situation is certainly not uncomfortable enough.

  Garrett doesn’t pull his gaze away from the silk and satin. “Why don’t you tell me what that incredibly convoluted exchange was all about first. Then we can discuss your sleeping arrangements.”

  Time to come clean. About one secret, anyway. Sucking in a deep breath, I say, “Okay, here’s the deal: Danny and I have been best friends for half our lives. Just friends. We’ve never hooked up, ever. He’s like a brother, so the idea is, frankly, gross.”

  “So what was the comment about sharing his bed tonight?” Garrett asks, sounding deceptively calm.

  I wave at my half-packed suitcase. “Whenever I’m between jobs, I crash at his place. He has like a hundred roommates and there’s no extra bed, so I just share his.”